Page 58 of Best Man Speaking

The private little smile she flicks at me as she steps back doesn’t hurt. Neither does her apparent lack of awareness when it comes to just how often she touches me.

I turn with a laugh, instantly pointing at Julian. “I told you she’d like it with me in a cage, Jules!”

I smirk, playing along, even as my balls shrink at the imagined pain.

As if to prove we’re from the same genetic pool, he turns and smacks his head gently against the nearest wall, releasing a sound of absolute frustration. I smile at his actions, and Erica’s cheeks flush pink with giddy happiness as he turns around, pointing at Hallie and then me. “You both need to leave my house.”

Erica coughs ever so delicately, her brows rising as she corrects him. “Our house.”

Julian’s eyes move to meet hers. Most likely taking note of her happiness, he says in a more relaxed voice, “Our house.”

The high intensity of the moment is broken as Hallie laughs and makes her way over to grab her leather jacket and bag from the couch. She isn’t tense. Instead, she looks relaxed, at ease with our banter, and I’m relieved. I can only hope Julian notices the same and attributes it to us getting along in a banter-filled yet platonic way.

“Same time next week, everyone?” Erica asks as she packs up containers of leftovers for Hallie. Generally, I’d get them, but I have a distinct feeling I’ve moved down in my level of importance on this food chain.

“I thought family dinner was a monthly event?” Hallie asks as I pick up my car keys and phone off the kitchen counter.

“Oh, it is, but this was fun enough to warrant a repeat. And anyway, Hal, you’ll be off again soon, and I want to make the most of it.” Erica brings the tote bag full of food containers over to where Hallie and I now stand together. “Can I trust the two of you to share this?”

Julian opens his mouth to say something, but Erica hushes him.

I roll my eyes at Erica before looking over at Hallie, expecting her to have a similar look of skepticism, but she doesn’t. Instead, she looks almost thoughtful, her eyes locked on Erica’s as she replies with a small, apathetic shrug, “I’ll send you the photo evidence to prove it.”

“Good, and I’ll see you all at the wedding venue tomorrow before lunch, right?” Erica confirms, as if we haven’t had the appointment tattooed onto our brains for the last week.

“Oui, chef,” Hallie replies, and I give a little two-fingered salute to convey my own acknowledgment as we walk out the front door.

“A cock cage, huh?” I ask to break the weirdly comfortable silence that has settled around us.

Hallie laughs. “Either that or a ball gag.”

I make a tutting sound, shaking my head slowly. “How are you ever going to be able to remain on your best behavior around me tomorrow?”

She reaches down to lower the volume on my truck’s radio as she replies, “Luckily, being on my best behavior around you isn’t expected. As long as I don’t try to light you on fire, Jules won’t mind what we do.”

“Hallie, Hallie, Hallie. Are you really going to be able to be around me in public all day and not touch me?”

“Thinking a little highly of yourself there, Mr. Scott?” she asks, even as she reaches out to trace a single finger along my forearm.

“You’re tactile, Hal. I don’t mind it. I just don’t want you to get us busted tomorrow.” I smile, thinking of all the ways we can “almost” get busted tomorrow.

“If anyone is going to get us caught, it’ll be you.”

“It’ll be me that gets us caught, only after you’ve tormented me until my breaking point. I was just a good brother trying to do the right thing until you showed up and corrupted me with talk about cock cages.”

I smile into the darkness of the car, turning my head toward her, only to catch her looking my way.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, gesturing vaguely at my face and the way it probably seems to be telling the world I’m thinking about sex.

Her and sex, if we are going to get into specifics.

“You don’t like it?” I run my fingers down the cut of my jaw. “I thought you liked my face.”

“To be honest, I’d rather not have to look at it,” she says, faking disinterest.

Oh, she is a lying liar who lies.

“You could always sit on it,” I suggest good-naturedly, as if I’m being nothing more than thoughtful and considerate of her wants and needs. Which, if she were being honest, would probably include that exact proposition.

---